


Cracks of Light

by winter_angst



Series: Twilight [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Twilight, Blood, F/M, Loneliness, Love at First Sight, M/M, Murder, Origin Story, Smut, Unrequited Love, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29205051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Somehow in the cracks of light love had been found; maybe Natasha could find it too.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Twilight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142930
Kudos: 6





	Cracks of Light

Natasha was born in agony, ripped apart and reassembled. Engulfed in flames, burned alive. Like a phoenix she rose from the ashes, but unlike a phoenix she rose with a ferocious thirst. Whoever had turned her was long gone, Natasha laying nude in the snow outside of a small rickety cabin. She sat up and realized she wasn’t cold. Her throat burned furiously as she stood. Everything was so  _ clear _ . The snow falling around her she could see in vivid detail. Her mind was clear and she found she could follow several trains of thought at once. One kept tabs on her searing throat, one taking stock of her surroundings and another trying to make sense of what was happening to her. 

She tried to remember but it was all black. The only thing she remembered was the agony and it wasn’t something she wished to reminisce on. She wasn’t cold, she realized once more as she looked down at her body. The snowflakes that fell on her skin did not melt. Some slipped off her skin, others piled on one another. How curious. She took a step forward expecting something, pain perhaps? She felt fine, save for the burn which, when focused upon, was unbearable. She knocked on the door to the cabin and it creaked open. She stepped inside. There was a temperature change though her body adjusted to it immediately. Not for a moment did it feel unpleasant. 

The cabin held an old wood stove, a plywood table, and a cot with a chest at the end. She felt indecent having so much skin exposed. As she walked across the floor she realized how light and powerful she felt. It was a queer sensation, one she didn’t have a name for. She opened the chest and frowned. It was empty. She turned around and looked at each grain in the wood of the cabin wall. It felt wrong that she was alone. Something told her that something was wrong. But there was nothing in the cabin for her so she left it and started to walk in a direction she knew was west. 

It should have been silent but it wasn’t. She could hear things moving beneath the snow and as she walked she felt increasingly impatient. She upticked her pace and suddenly she was breezing over the snow so quickly only her toes settled, resting on the snow surface for a fraction of a second and propelling her forward in great bounds. It felt just as right as it did wrong and since her strange awakening and her face was drawn up in a grin. The fire in her throat was forgotten as this new joy was discovered. It was just as graceful as it was powerful and despite her speed she could see everything with perfect clarity. Nothing blurred despite her speed as she raced through the clearing and the forest. A pack of wolves saw her and fled. Natasha could see each individual hair in their coat. 

She reached the edge of town in less than an hour. She slowed, instinctive, hesitant though she wasn’t certain why. These instincts were new and powerful like her body. She remained there. She could hear voices, hear heart beats and smell something enticing. There was an urge to go down and track down the smell but those instincts in her, the ones she realized had been born in the fire with her, told her to wait until night fell. It wasn’t long until the bright winter sun began to set. The darkness did impede her new vision. She saw with perfect clarity, things tingled a slight purple in color. 

Heartbeats slowed as most of the denizens fell asleep but a few beat strong and fast. Instincts told Natasha that those were the ones to track. She crept down into the town, past a pen of lambs that bleated and crowded against the far pen wall. Natasha paused at that, curious. They reacted as though she were a wolf. Their hearts pattered fiercely as they looked at her. She wasted very little time in front of them, searing in her throat reminding her that following the heartbeat was the only way to satiate it. 

She kept the shadows, well aware of her nudity, and she found herself in an alleyway beside a building where all the thudding hearts were. A sour smell came from it and it rang familiar with her. Alcohol. Vodka and beer. A bar then. Her new instincts told that this was a prime hunting ground. Until then Natasha wasn’t even aware she was hunting. 

She laid in wait for a patron to leave and eventually two did. Two was better than one and she stepped into a patch of light from the above street lamp and the men came up short. They were both intoxicated as they stared openly at her. 

Natasha held out her hand. “Come,” she said in Russian.

The two men didn’t hesitate for a moment. In the alleyway they reached out to touch and as their warm hands made contact with their skin their pleased expressions turned quickly to horror. 

“Wurdulac!” 

Natasha could no longer wait. She reached and seized the man by the arm. The bone cracked beneath her touch like a piece of hay, dry and brittle. The man howled and Natasha leaned in, ripping out this throat. The other had stood there, frozen in horror, but as his companion released a final blood gargling breath he turned to flee. Natasha and her newfound speed had no difficulty reaching him. She tore open his carotid artery and was rewarded with a spray of fresh hot blood. It was sweet and it soothed the burn in her throat.

She drank his blood, great gulps of the thick substance that soothed her and made her feel even more powerful than she already did. Eventually the blood ran dry in the man’s body and she dropped him in a heap onto the cobblestone. She turned attention to the first one she killed and drained that body of blood as well. When she was finished she felt satisfied, comfortably full and exponentially more powerfully.

She understood now what she was. A wurdulac; a vampire. 

  * • •• •• ••



She was born with a set of instincts that kept her alive. Her existence relied on secrecy so she was nomadic; she didn’t stay one place too long. It was easy to lure men — she was beautiful and men were weak for beauty. As she wandered she couldn’t help a feeling of displacement. It got old always being on the move. 

She crossed paths with others like, and, like her, they were startlingly beautiful and frightfully powerful. Those instincts she depended on told her that getting too close was dangerous so she kept her distance though she did converse with them from a safe distance. She shared her confusing rebirth and another vampire, a blonde name Yolanda, had expressed sympathy for her that seemed genuine. They never got within touching distance but she told Natasha more about what she was.

She explained thirst, as though Natasha didn’t already understand it, and particulars of their anatomy -- their venom coated teeth, venom glands in their mouth and impenetrable skin. She explained the venom infected humans and turned them into vampires if not drained. Natasha knew about the sun reaction but not about the Volturi who Yolanda warned was not a coven to run across. She also casually advised that should a limb be torn off it could be reattached with venom. 

Venom was a major part of what they were. When she had been reborn, venom had run her veins instead of blood lending her extraordinary strength which dulled a bit after about a year when it had dried up. The weight of responsibility of turning a human was also made apparent which made the question of Natasha’s origin all the more puzzling.

Natasha lived off bits of information at a time from an occasionally friendly passerby. It was from them that she learned about covens. The idea of traveling with more like her was off putting initially. The instincts she had so depended on told her that their kind were solitary. And yet more often that not when she happened upon their kind through the years very few were alone. 

As a decade turned to two and two to four, Natasha found herself feeling as though something was missing. When she came across her fellows she found herself wanting to get closer but the idea of deferring to the leader of another coven was too abrasive to tolerate. So she went on a hunt of a different kind; she would build her own coven. 

  * • •• •• ••



Natasha was resting on the roof of a dilapidated barn in the cover of a moonless night watching a tired young farmer locking up for the last time. He was handsome, though overworked. The Depression had hit him hard and the bank was taking the farm. He had nowhere to go and things were looking bleak for him.

Natasha had a new life in store. 

She flipped off the roof once he was inside and approached the window. He was sitting in the living room, head in his hands, shoulders trembling. Natasha felt a pang of pity for the human albeit a bit righteous in her selection. She flitted to the knock and knocked twice. There was silence, footsteps retreating as he undoubtedly went to grab a gun — Natasha could have laughed; bullets simply ricocheted off her body — and came back to the door.

“I ain’t got any money.”

“I’m not here for your money, James,” Natasha said in her singing voice. 

There silence, an uptick in his heart at the unexpected reply. Then there was scuffing as the gun was set aside and the door was pulled open — his mama surely taught him how to treat a lady and leaving one out in the cold just wouldn’t do — and as he laid eyes on her, he gasped. 

He was just as handsome up close as he was from afar, shoulder length brown hair and eyes that were blueish gray. That pigment wouldn’t last long; soon they would be just as a red as Natasha’s were. Of course there were human imperfections, hyperpigmentation under his right eye, a crooked nose, an upper lip a bit bigger than the bottom — but that would be smoothed out with the transformation and rebirths.

“May I come in?” 

He stepped aside immediately and Natasha swept into the farmhouse. It was cramped but cozy, clearly passed through generations; no wonder he was so torn up about losing it. The scent of the human filled every crevice: apples and honeysuckle and had Natasha had alternative motives he would have made a fine meal. 

“Can I get you some water, miss? I’m ‘fraid s’all I can offer.” He sounded humbled, ashamed. 

“No thank you.” She turned to face him. “How would you like to live forever?”

He blinked at her. “I already accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, ma’am.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about religion, James. I’m talking about this,” she darted around him and the man almost toppled over in shock. Natasha had decided that shock value was her best course of action. No one could see their incredible abilities and refuse. “How would you like to be like  _ me _ ?”

“What are you?” James demanded, heart pounding. He kept looking towards the gun. “A demon?”

“A vampire,” she corrected with a toothy smile. “You would be immortal, my friend. Frozen in time just as you are now. You can leave this farm and begin anew with me. Just you and I.”

It sounded so nice to have a companion; someone to talk to and compare abilities with. It appealed to her. It had been a long time of travelling. She’d watch the Russian Empire dissolve into the USSR before she moved on, too disgusted in the country she’d once held such pride in to stay. Perhaps there were other reasons for her movement; maybe vampires had nomadic urges naturally. 

Her accent didn’t seem to have affected James the way it did some Americans she’d encountered. Simply beckoning them into the shadows was complicated by being accused of being a communist. Natasha couldn’t be bothered with political conflicts of the human world, not when she was a part of a fantastical one all her own. 

“Vampire?” James echoed in his country drawl. 

Natasha found she liked the twang of it. American accents themselves were a bit clunky to her but southern ones rounded out the edges. “Yes,” she said. “Vampire.” 

He reached for the gun and Natasha allowed it. He got his hands around it, swung it around and fired. There was a huge bang and Natasha felt something tap against her chest, tearing her shirt. The bullet popped against the wall as it glanced off her skin. James dropped the gun and stepped back uttering a prayer. 

“I’m not here to kill you James,” she reminded him, taking a step forward. “Join me. It’s better than starving alone.”

James huddled against the door saying his Hail Marys. Natasha sat down in front of him, legs folded gracefully beneath her as she lowered her body to the floorboards. James’ eyes were shut and his lips mouthed words he was reciting in his mind. Natasha propped her head up on her hand and watched. 

Twice he cracked open an eye, saw her, and went back to praying. Natasha wasn’t certain what he expected to happen; Natasha had come here for a reason and she wasn’t to leave until her task came to fruition. The sun began to rise as it came streaming through the window it hit Natasha’s skin, reflecting off with a prism of colors. When he opened his eyes next they widened comically. Natasha smiled. 

“The sunlight…” he said, pausing as he shook his head. “Vampires are ‘posed to  _ burn _ .” 

“I’m not burning.” 

James shook his head looking weak and exhausted. “Why do you want to make me into one of you?” 

“I’m lonely.” she could be frank with him, he would soon be her companion. “Aren’t you?” 

The question seemed to catch James off guard. He was startled, mouth opening and then shutting as his eyes grew stormy with confusion. Natasha knew he was considering it. Things were looking especially hopeless for him and he had no plans, no destination. Bankers would be arriving within hours and after that James would be without a home. 

“How do you know my name?” 

“I’ve been watching for you for a long time.” 

James winced subtly before he asked, “What’s it like, being one of you?” 

“It’s like nothing you’ll ever experience.” Because Natasha had nothing to compare it too, she could only go off of that first day when she awoke from the flames. “You’ll be more powerful than you could have ever dreamt.” 

“God created creatures like you?” he asked warily. 

Natasha doubted the existence of such an omnipotent force but for the sake of convincing James she nodded her head. “Who else could have?” 

He nodded his head, knitting his brows together as he assessed her, watching her glimmer in the sunlight streaming from the window. “Why me?” 

“You appeal most to me.” she replied frankly. “You’re very handsome.” 

Color blossomed in his cheeks, hot blood pooling behind his skin. A flicker of thirst scorched her throat but she ignored it. She wasn’t here to feed. She wasn’t there to feed, she was there to build herself a coven. “Th-thank you,” he stammered. 

She smiled and stood. She held out her hand to him. “Come.” 

After a moment of trepidation he took it and gasped at her cool hard hand and the ease in which Natasha pulled him upright. As fun as it was to marvel a human with her abilities, he was aching to have someone to share these abilities. She took him to the barn, empty of all livestock now -- James had sold them all -- and brought him to the hay loft. The bankers wouldn’t come to the barn right away and it would provide ample time for the transformation. Natasha didn’t know how long it took, only that it wasn’t instant and that it was incredibly painful. She left that detail out. James was trembling as she laid him on a bed of hay, heart hammering. Natasha smiled down at her human, at the one that would join her in the afterlife and leaned down to press her lips against his. 

“I’ll see you soon, dorogoy.” 

She leaned over, feeling his sharp inhale of a breath, and bit into his neck. 

  * • •• •• ••



Natasha sat over James. He wasn’t moving, his eyes were shut, but she knew that he was ablaze. She felt for him, carried the burden of guilt on her thin shoulders, but it was a necessary evil. It was selfish -- she knew it was -- and yet she didn’t carry the smallest bit of shame in it. She watched the change, watched as the farmer’s tan left Jame’s skin turning it pearlescent. His features smoothed out and corrected themselves into perfect symmetry. And Natasha knew that, behind his violet eyelids red eyes laid. She watched over him the way a mother did her child and in a way that’s what he was; she had created him. 

When he began to stir she gave him space, let him piece together his surroundings. Eventually his crimson gaze found her and he was up in seconds, crouching in the hay. “Welcome.” she said. 

James didn’t speak immediately. He looked around taking in all the miniscule details that his human eyes never could have and then they returned to her face. “You didn’t tell me about the pain.” 

His voice was smooth as whiskey and Natasha’s smile turned more simpering. “I didn’t want to frighten you.” 

He went rigid suddenly and Natasha knew why. He was finally realizing his thirst. “I’ll bring you blood,” Natasha jumped off the loft, landing and tilting her head to look at him. “You stay there.” 

James frowned but nodded his head. Natasha had no reason not to trust him -- she was his only connection to this new world he’d woken up into; he  _ needed _ her. It was a good feeling, being needed. For the first time in one hundred and thirty three years she wasn’t alone. She expected it to feel strange but all she felt was anticipation for the years to come. For the company that was now guaranteed. She wouldn’t have to wait to happen upon others like her to have a proper conversation. She ran through the purpley night to a shanty town. It was easy to grab two bodies, one for James and one to satisfy her own thirst, and she tossed them over her shoulders before breezing back to the foreclosed farm. 

James was no longer in the hay loft, he was wandering the barn, staring at the dust mites in the air with a look of bewilderment and amazement. The smell of blood quickly snapped him out of it and lowered himself into a crouch with a snarl. Natasha knew he was seconds from springing at her to fight for her the bodies she threw one at him. The body ragdolled across the floor, sliding to a stop a few inches in front of James. The newborn wasted no time in pouncing the body. Natasha drank, watching James feed with hooded eyes. It was a wonder to see him, hunched over, groaning as he drained the human’s body. 

When the body ran dry he shoved it away and stood with a sigh of relief. Natasha took her time finishing off her own and let the body spill from her arms to the floor. James was staring at her, his red eyes burning bright with something achingly familiar. Natasha could bank on a single memory of it but it lived in her along with those instincts. But this was a different kind of instinct, something…human. 

James crossed the space between them and Natasha’s muscles did not coil as she expected them too, she didn’t freeze in fear or crouch in defense. She remained calm, a strange anticipation curling around her core, and took a step forward as well. James’ hands came up to cradle her narrow face and their lips connected. Natasha was treated with hazy recollections of feelings similar but none of them were clear and none of them could rival the way this particular kiss felt. She melted into the feelings, melted into James’ new body and James uttered a lusty growl. His kisses left her lips and focused on her jawline and then her throat. She expected to tense up — he was a newborn and they were unpredictable — but there was nothing but desire in his actions. 

His lips were warm and soft against her collar bone and in the hollow of her throat, trailing its way down her sternum until fabric hindered him. With incredible discipline he pulled back and took the hem of it, lifting it off of her. He took half a step back, admiring her feminine shape and supple breasts, pale strawberry areolas stood out starkly against her pale skin. Moonlight streamed down from the windows in the cupola giving her a skin a pearly glow. James admired her for a moment and Natasha preened under the attention. She’d been under the gaze of men in countless countries but never had it felt the way it did now; she welcomed it. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured. 

Natasha stepped forward and unbuttoned the linen shirt James wore. Beneath it was hardened muscle and a white skin. She ran his fingers along his chest, over his pecs and down his abs. He lifts own hands to explore her upper body, fingers tracing the shape of her breasts and her flat firm stomach. His fingers skimmed the edge of her trousers, eager but not rapacious. He shifted his attention upwards once more, taking each breast in hand, lightly kneading the flesh until her nipples hardened and pressed into his palm. His touch sent electrical currents directly to her core, a delightful sensation she was increasingly fond of. It was a sensation that she could revil in forever. And that was an option; she had forever with this man. 

He lowered his face to take her nipple in his mouth, warm wet heat engulfing her sensitive nub. She tilted her head back with a breathy sigh. James flicked his tongue over its tip, moving to the other and then back again. He took it upon himself to undo her trousers. They pooled at her feet and she stood as naked as she had during her own awakening, bathed in moonlight. James placed a final kiss on each nipple and kissed down her stomach, going to his knees as he reached her pubic bone. He gently nudged her legs apart and Nataha eagerly obeyed. He lapped at her eagerly, lips molding around her clit, tongue flicking over its sensitive and Natasha shivered as her core tightened. He hummed and the vibrations sent shockwaves through her, tipping her over into orgasm. She gasped through it, hand tangling into James’ brown hair and he suckled her through it. Venom slicked, she urged him upward and returned the gesture, kissing down his body and the inside of his thighs before swallowing his impressive length, stroking his perineum as she did so. He came down her throat and Natasha, acquisitive, lowered herself to the floorboards. 

James, understanding, following her down. He didn’t let her head rest against the floor, hand sliding behind her head with tenderness that suggested they had been lovers for ages. He knelt between her legs, one hand sliding from her side down her hip and gripping her thigh. It was firm but far from painful. Natasha’s entire body was alive, electric, currents traveling from James’ touch to her skin. She craved more of him and as he lined up and sunk inside of her, Natasha felt complete for the first time since her awakening. 

Her mouth fell open, vermillion lips slack and quickly claimed in a fierce kiss from James. They moved together, Natasha’s ankles locked around his hips as she drew him in as deeply as he could possibly go. “Can I…” he trailed off, the question hanging in the air. 

“Yes.” 

Natasha couldn’t get pregnant, there was no reason to let that distract from the raw passion between them. James came with a shudder, pubic bone grinding against Natasha’s clit which carried her along on an orgasm of her own. James pulled out and rolled over, arms caging around her, pressing her to his body. Natasha rested her head on his chest. It was strange and new and fantastic. 

“Thank you,” James said softly. 

Natasha tilted her head upward and looked at her new companion. She felt a surge of affection that had escaped her until that very moment. In that moment she knew that she would sooner die than allow any harm come to him. James was making her feel in a way she hadn’t in all her years of this second life of hers. It was invaluable and meant more to her than she could express in words. So he kissed his jawline and pressed closer. If they could sleep she probably could have fallen asleep in his arms. 

“I’m happy to have found you,” Natasha replied. 

“I’m happy you found me too.” 

  * • •• •• ••



The two were inseparable, a force to reckon with. They happened upon others like them and they couldn’t deny the bond between them. When they weren’t enjoying each other's company physically they were prowling various cities for a meal. Nothing sparked the passion between them like bloodlust. Natasha drew in men, and Bucky women, and together they fed. Everything was perfect. Years passed by like days, their happiness uncharted. 

Until they returned to New York City in the winter of 1943. They were prowling the docks when James split off to hunt closer to the residential areas. Natasha trusted him to follow his instincts and their thirst wasn’t so dire that they would risk exposing themselves for the sake of a meal. So she carried on, finding a drunk man staggering around a deserted street. Natasha made quick work of him, tackling him to ground and ripping open his artery to let the fresh hot blood flow fast and thick into her mouth. There was no reason to hide and a moonless night. Around here were only the slow heartbeat of the sleeping humans. No reason to rush. She tossed the body into the water and went back to the apartment they were currently living in. She was on the street when she smelt the human. She dashed forward, stunned and furious that James would be so stupid as to bring a meal back to their home. As she stepped foot into the apartment she realised things were more dire than she had originally guessed. 

“You fool.” 

James turned to look at her, panicked. Her anger faded as she saw his anguish. She rushed to his side and started down at the deathly still human with a bite wound on his wrist. He was small and peaky, bruises blossomed over his exposed skin and his nose bleeding heavily and broken. 

“I had to save him,” James said urgently. 

Natasha knew in that moment that he was losing him. There was something in his eyes, something she’d never seen before. She inclined her head briefly and tried fruitlessly not to loathe the tiny human that had thrown a wrench in their perfect existence. She didn’t give up hope, not immediately. She stayed at James’ side, held his hand while he fretted. The way he squeezed felt different and Natasha’s heart ached furiously. She cared for James deeply, she had devoted herself to him, so she couldn’t find the strength to be angry or cross with him for finding love so abruptly. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it — had what they shared not been love? She had never cared for someone so fiercely, loved them so devotely. 

She tried to be angry that James now held her hand as a friend and not as lover, looking at this human, whose name he didn’t even know, like he was a man seeing the light for the very first time. He hadn’t looked at Natasha that way and, consequently, neither had she looked at him with such adoration. As much as it pained her, she had to consider that they may not have a fated pair. To be alone again, after being with company for so long, was daunting. Would they strike out on their own? Would Natasha have to start all over again? 

The human rose, drastically changed and healthy and the way that James looked at him didn’t change. It took time for the man, for Steve, to adjust. He seemed put off by their abilities and by the price of immortality. But as time carried on the way that James looked at Steve was reciprocated. Never did James push Natasha away but she let the rift between them open. It didn't feel cold and he didn’t utter any plans of moving on without her. When their time ran up in Brooklyn in the mid 50s, James — nicknamed Bucky by Steve — sought her counsel on where they were supposed to go next. 

_ They.  _

Natasha was not going to put aside after all. It relieved her though she didn’t let on about it the way she didn’t let on about her hurt on James’ — Bucky’s — abrupt change of heart. Would she love again, she didn’t know. If what she had felt for Bucky had been love, she couldn’t be certain of either. Despite her years there was much she didn’t know about herself. It was an endless journey of discovery. Perhaps one day she would happen upon someone the way James had happened upon Steve. Or perhaps such things were a rarity that happened to a very select few and James had been a part of the lucky few.

Whatever it was, whatever the outcome, Natasha wasn’t alone and that had been her goal from the start. To build a coven and surround herself with others like her to alleviate loneliness. They were now three strong. That was a positive she could take from the entire situation. Somehow in the cracks of light love had been found; maybe Natasha could find it too.


End file.
